One Hundred Nights with the Devil - Chapter 17

Her mother’s tomb, which convicted her for her own foolishness of not stacking beautiful stones or tying the white cloth that guides the soul to God, crushed Elena’s anger. She wasn’t even angry at the cunning of her biological father who was now willing to acknowledge her as his daughter.

Was it ten days? Or a month……?

Elena secluded herself in the beautiful bedroom the Pope gave her, neither eating nor sleeping, and thought. She thought and thought, and then she resolved.

She was left alone and endured without dying to become a priest, and she endured the Devil’s torment after becoming an Exorcist to become a Saintess.

Therefore, she would endure this helplessness and shame and surely seize another opportunity.

<Elena. I’m sure you also heard the news that a Devil appeared in Swabia. I will arrange a procession grander than the last, so go and fulfill your duty as the Saintess.>

<…….>

<Don’t even think about running away! Did you think you could live receiving the treatment of a Saintess forever just because you suffered once? If a rumor spreads that you refused the exorcism, a riot will break out immediately! Demands to hold a religious trial, calling you a Devil’s minion instead of a Saintess, will pour in…….>

<Ahem. Yes. I only said all that because I was worried about you, so don’t be upset. My heart is also extremely heavy having to send you, my only daughter.>

Someday, she would take everything away from that scoundrel, who was more vicious than a Devil. She would take it all and make him experience firsthand how terrible it is to be capable of nothing but begging someone just to live.

For that day, Elena decided to throw her life into anger again.

“Mother.”

She called out to the tomb, which was warm from the sun, treating it like the person she missed. In her mind, her mother’s face, which seemed ready to call her name at any moment, was vivid, but no answer came from the tomb.

Feeling a little forlorn, she acted like a child this time.

“……Mom.”

Your daughter won’t crumble under pain. She will cunningly move her tongue before the Devils, and survive by catering to their whims.

And after surviving so tenaciously, she must savor the sight of the man who hurt you being afraid of me. She must force herself to live the happy life you wished for.

Elena vowed and re-vowed several times. Until her body was completely chilled by the blowing wind.

The last words she uttered after gathering her composure again were:

“..….I’ll be back.”

It was the final goodbye her mother had left on a rainy day.

“Mother. I’ll be back.”

A week later. Elena headed to the West for her fifth exorcism.

……Anyway, when you receive my letter, be sure to rethink it. This is an opportunity that won’t come again. Surely you don’t want to live your whole life in that Southern backwater corner, singing dirges1) forever. Besides, you know, too.

How old-fashioned and pathetic the people in our hometown are! As I told you in the last letter, there are many splendid people here that will make your eyes turn. And yet, dazzling reddish-brown hair like yours isn’t common even here. You will definitely stand out here, too. With luck, you might catch the eye of the most noble patron as soon as you arrive. Yes. I’m talking about His Grace, Duke Conrad2), the patron of Imperial Art and the master of this land.

This is absolutely no joke. It’s a truly possible story! If we just attend the ‘Night of the Arts’ two months from now, we can receive the patronage of a huge grand noble and sing to our hearts’ content!

Of course, I understand your anxiety because of ‘that incident’ that happened here before. But an opportunity for a commoner artist with no connections like us to find a patron won’t come again…….

1) At that time in the Southern part of the Empire, there was a trend where villagers jointly hired musicians to listen to dirges. 2) Percival Cesario Conrad. Husband of Emperor Isabel Christina Bavaria and father of Lloyd Norbertus Bavaria-Conrad and Lowell Sarbellio Bavaria-Conrad. ― Letter sent to a friend in his hometown by an unidentified artist Held by Jult University. 986.